It
is a great pity we don't know
When
the dead are going to die
So
that, over a last companionable
Drink,
we could tell them
How
much we liked them.
Happy
the man who, dying, can
Place
his hand on his heart and say:
‘At
least I didn't neglect to tell
The
thrush how beautifully she sings.’
No comments:
Post a Comment